


Do you love me?

by BastardLady



Category: Inn Between (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, I'm so soft for them, M/M, i just want them to hold hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardLady/pseuds/BastardLady
Summary: As I was writing this I got a cavity from how sweet it was
Relationships: Meltyre/Sterling Whitetower
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Do you love me?

Meltyre loved Sterling. Of course he did.

After everything they’d been through together; the terrors they’d seen, the woeful things they’d recovered from. Fighting against forces much bigger than them, defending innocent people, learning magic. Together. They’d done all of that _together_. Even if they _didn’t_ love each other, Meltyre would be hard pressed to imagine a life where Sterling was vacant. But they _did_ love each other. Meltyre knew that. He knew he loved Sterling and, deep down, he knew Sterling felt the same way.

But they had not talked about it.

Neither of them wanted to bring it up, lest they ruin their relationship.

Neither of them really felt it was necessary; they were certainly happy as it was.

Neither of them thought they were ready to talk about it, anyway.

So they didn’t.

And truth be told, they were perfectly happy with that.

“Meltyre is _terrible_ at cooking! This was all me,” Lydda said matter-of-factly.

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Meltyre said sheepishly, sending Sterling a beatific look. Sterling returned it with raised eyebrows and a grin.

“Actually, Miss Lydda, Meltyre was the best cook when we went camping!” Sterling took a swig of cider before deliberating, and eventually continuing, “Well, the best cook except Betty. I don’t even know what kind of food she made, but it was _delectable_.”

“Uh huh,” Lydda nodded in jest.

“Well, and also Fina was probably a better cook than him. But his food _was_ good, I’m sure!”

Lydda smirked.

Sterling hesitated before asserting, “also I probably, soberly, have better food than him. But I was _formally taught_ how to cook, so surely that’s not _his_ fault.”

Meltyre was laughing into his hands, “ _S_ _terling_.”

“But he was _definitely_ a better cook than the Friar! I know that for certain!” into his glass he mumbled, “their food was _barely edible_.”

“Sterling!” Meltyre said through his giggles.

“What?”

“ _Better than Velune_ ? Am I really _that bad_?”

Sterling shrugged and took another drink.

Through a stuffed mouthful of bread, Min declared, “Lydda is definitely better at cooking than Meltyre.”

Seri nodded eagerly in agreement, which sent the whole table laughing.

This had become commonplace for them. They did everything together _anyway_ , but they made sure and certain to eat their meals together. It was a simple but meaningful routine of theirs. On some level, it was their reconciliation for being suddenly thrown into this whole new situation. They didn’t know anybody else, but they did know each other. Having meals together was a way of retaining normalcy. 

As such, Sterling had become a more-or-less bona fide member of Meltyre’s family. He ate most breakfasts and dinners with Meltyre and his sisters, and during the day he and Meltyre spent all their free time together (an arduous task, considering their job posts were across the castle from each other, but they were insistent).

And now, with darkness flirting with the edges of the sky and savory aromas drifting through their new home, they laughed and ate. 

Sterling was so good with Meltyre’s sisters, though he didn’t think so. Meltyre watched him adoringly as he joked and bantered. He was always so _expressive_ . More than once, he nearly knocked over his cup because of his exuberance. And he was handsome. _Gods,_ he was handsome. Meltyre loved looking at him. To think that Sterling was his. Not in so many words, of course; they’d never explicitly fleshed out their relationship. But Sterling _was_ his. And right now he was telling captivating stories to his sisters, sitting at the head of their homely dinner table, heartening the room. This was their life now, and Meltyre felt an ineffable amount of _joy_ to have that knowledge. 

“It’s getting late. You girls ought to start getting ready for bed.”

“But _Meltyre_!”

“Go on. He’ll be back in the morning.”

“Hmph.”

As they walked away, Sterling playfully chided, “you could have let them stay a little longer.”

“They need their rest.”

The two of them cleaned up the table and found themselves sitting on the floor in front of the wood burning stove. It was much later now. Hours had passed since dinner, and they were being lulled into a pleasant stupor by the fire. Sterling was half asleep, leaning against the sofa and looking up at the ceiling. He was humming something. A sweet tune, breathy and baritone. Meltyre was smiling dumbly. _How_ _did I manage to luck out like this_ _,_ he wondered. 

He looped his arm through Sterling’s and ardently leaned his head into the crook of Sterling's neck. At that, Sterling stirred and stopped humming. He looked down at Meltyre with confusion, then with resolution, and then finally with agreement. He shimmied down further onto the floor, leaned into Meltyre, and then began humming again.

They sat just like that for a while. Bodies attuned to one another.

At some point, Sterling took Meltyre’s hand. Stroking the lines of his palm, tapping each of his knuckles, drawing curly cues on his freckled skin, and eventually lacing their fingers together. 

Under any normal circumstances, Meltyre’s heart would have been pounding out of his chest, but right now he felt perfectly calm. This was _right_. This was exactly as it should have been. 

Suddenly, Sterling’s humming stopped. Meltyre opened his eyes and looked up at him.

After a moment, which Sterling had seemingly spent pondering something of quiet significance, he resolutely stated, “I love you,” and then, eyes still closed, he asked, “Do you love me?” 

Meltyre smiled gently, raised their interlocked hands, and kissed the back of Sterling’s. Against his skin, he softly said, “Yes. I love you.”

A muted smile graced Sterling’s lips as he started humming again.


End file.
